With the exception of ‘90’s cult favorite Coneheads,
director Steve Barron went on to fade into relative obscurity among music
aficionados and a documentarian subset of filmmakers. There’s nothing wrong
with that, but from a feature film standpoint, it is almost as if he was put on this earth to direct Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and then exit
stage right (or is it left? Whatever), barely to be heard from again. If you
believe in that kind of stuff, which I don’t, but for the sake of this article,
I will.

Depending where you’re sitting, this is either an honorable
distinction or the saddest thing you’ve ever heard. I’m sure he’s doing
fine, so let’s not shed tears, eh? [Editor's Note: Ryan is Canadian; this "eh" was his own, and I think that's swell] That’s not what we’re here for! We’re here
to tick off the reasons why I believe his signature franchise achievement of cinema
was a terrific comic book film when it was released, (one that somehow manages
to hold up as a perhaps great comic book film to this day), and why is age irrelevant for appreciating it between generations.

So! Let us count the ways,
in no particular order...

Turtle FX

You can keep your CGI. I’ll take the imaginative and
painstakingly practical work of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop any day of the week,
including and especially this day. Thanks to Barron and company’s adherence to
real world grit – and a welcome minimization of cartoonish aesthetics that
would’ve been in line with the popular animated series (a childhood favorite of
mine as well, by the by, for full
disclosure...) – the Turtles actually look and feel like natural, believable
extensions of the grimy, scum-ridden world they inhabit. Which, if you think
about it, should be next to impossible to accomplish in a movie about walking,
talking, pizza-munching amphibians with a giant rat as a Kung Fu Master. Some
of that is due to the quality of the effects; most of it is due to how they
were used, framed and utilized. The brothers and their interactions with
humans, be it in an emotionally-charged character moment or a lighthearted
fight scene, are seamless and hold up remarkably well for what are essentially
animatronic heads on top of stunt actors in funky rubber suits.

New York City, The Other OTHER Main Character

From glistening wet streets to smoke-filled alleys from which you
can almost smell the stink, cinematographer John Fenner and production
designer Roy Forge Smith together brought to neon life one of the more
underrated depictions of the Big Apple as a city with a life (and particularly nightlife) all its own. It’s nothing on
the seminal works of Martin Scorsese, of course, but it is something artistically sound and teeming with scuzzy life,
whether that be rats on two legs or four. In any event, it does help to ground
and wed the fantasy elements of the Turtles themselves to a more realistically
fictionalized big-city crime wave.

It’s still a comic book at heart, but it
doesn’t necessarily try to sugarcoat or overstylize the harsher urban world
that a lot of people call home, and for a movie originally marketed to younger
kids like me at the time, I respect that bold creative stroke all the more when
the pressure to make the movie even more kid-friendly had to be enormous.

The Shredder

For my admittedly limited amount of money (Canadian,
at that), James Saito’s incarnation of the legendary Turtles nemesis is one of
the great screen villains of all time. For me it’s the diabolical combination
of his supreme martial bearing, which promises nothing short of a world of pain
if you dare get up in his samurai grille, with a booming voice that has to
challenge Harbinger from Mass Effect 2 or Pinhead from Hellraiser as a prime
example of intimidating diction.

The dude took on all four Turtles in the
film’s entertaining rooftop rumble finale, sustaining a single minor injury but
generally beating the shit out of a group of mutants who had, up to that point,
dominated human foes with ninja moves and endearingly corny jokes alike. Tag to
all that, the fact that Oroko Saki’s villainy is not just in his ruthless
methods, but that he gains all of his power in New York’s criminal underworld
on the backs of wayward, disaffected youths that he recruits into the Foot
Clan. Not mercenaries or hardened criminals like, say, Bane from The Dark
Knight Rises, but just your average troubled teenagers and runaways who have no
outlet for aggression and are looking for an otherwise absent father figure.
That’s some shameful exploitative shit right there, but it brings the Shredder
down to “our level”, rather than that of dime-a-dozen supervillains from
Saturday morning cartoons.

Dramatis Familia

I’ll be the first to admit, the humor in this film is
not for everyone. It can even be downright childish, and sometimes not in a
charming way, even if you take into account that the Turtles are teenagers.
It’s more apparent now as I near my 30th year compared to my adolescent
self, but, with that having been acknowledged, for all of its tongue-in-cheek
pop culture cracks at Jose Conseco and Vanna White (remember them, ‘90’s kids?
‘Course you do!), the film is ultimately about family and that
relationship-building that deepens any familial bond.

What sets this film apart
from its more goofy plot-driven sequels that pandered to increasingly lower
common denominators is how, at the onset of the second act, the filmmakers
uprooted the Turtles from NYC entirely and dropped them in the middle of rural
nowhere. Having been driven from their home by Shredder’s thugs, had their
father/mentor kidnapped and one of their own brothers brought to the brink of
death by the Foot, the Turtles, alongside Casey Jones and perennial ally April O’Neil, are forced to reassess the bonds that bind, to find their place
in a world without their father’s wisdom, and to come back stronger than ever
to take down Shredder and the Foot once and for all.

The writing and acting is
surprisingly rich in emotional depth, especially now with the benefit of
hindsight, and considering how blatantly idiotic the sequels became. The
rivalry between steadfast boyscout Leonardo and the temperamental Raphael
remains compelling to watch every time I sit down to relive it. Not to mention
that Raphael as a character resonated with me on a personal level, and still
does now. I felt much like he did in my formative years, angry at the world and
wracked by insecurity, and one of the best scenes in the film is when Raph is
given a compassionate lecture on life and the importance of family unity by the
kindly Master Splinter. Right in the feelings, that one.

Casey Jones aka Wayne Gretzky... On Steroids

The film that singlehandedly turned me into a massive fan of Elias
Koteas, the man behind the mask (emphasis on The Man, the record should show).
It’s safe to say that without Koteas’s charismatic contribution to the
wise-cracking, street-savvy vigilante with an abundance of sporting goods and
hockey-related puns, I wouldn’t hold this film in as high a regard. But he is,
and I do, so here we are. A seemingly one-dimensional character that was deftly
drawn into a more complex individual from the page, Koteas understood what the
role of Casey required, in all aspects. He simultaneously realized that he had
an obligation to the Turtles’ comic book roots, but also that Jones needed to
be real, first and foremost.

What resulted was a character who never met a one-liner
he didn’t like, and also a cocksure young man mired in his own poorly disguised
insecurities, related to both his lack of formal education and his masculinity.
Sometimes the two combine to bring about inspired moments of hilarity, a case
in point being the scene where brainy Donatello teases that Casey might be
claustrophobic (in relation to them hiding out in the sewers, which gives the
tough-talking Casey the jitters), and Casey replies with offended macho pride
that he’s “never even looked at another guy before!”